Poor Things
by Doctor Akachi
Summary: A short, Christmas fic, to get me in the holiday mood.  Kurt goes to visit his mother's grave on Christmas Eve, and runs into a shoulder to cry on.


Massive, wrought-iron gates welcomed the little man like the arms of an incubus, terrifying and enticing. He took a tentative step into the cemetery and looked around. A single, winding path snaked its way around the graves, leading into the outer reaches of the graveyard, and Kurt followed it, meeting the surroundings like a second home. Kurt had followed that same path countless times, and could walk it with his eyes closed, which was something that he wasn't entirely unwilling to attempt. Salt burned his eyes like acid, and dried tears traced the skin of his face. Soft flakes of white snow danced through the air like butterflies, completing and entire life-cycle in a few seconds. Kurt watched as a snowflake spun majestically before him, drifted to the ground and died before his eyes. It was quite sad to think that each of those unique little creatures would live and die, never to be acknowledged or known by anyone.

"Poor things..." He whispered.

The idea of the life and death of a snowflake spun through his mind a few times. If anything, it was comforting to know that at least these few could end their lives in a cemetery, rather than on a road or in a forest.

"Kurt?"

Kurt spun on the spot, his heart skipping a few beats. He had no idea that he'd passed anyone, he was too busy thinking about the anthropomorphism and mortality of snowflakes. A soft, crooked smile graced him.

"Sam? What are you doing here?" Kurt exclaimed, his voice a few octaves higher than normal.

"Oh, uh, I'm just visiting my cousin..." Sam scratched at the back of his head, and dug the toe of his shoe into the dirt.

"I'm so sorry to hear that, were you close?" Kurt hated smalltalk, but he had no other polite course of action.

Sam's eyes sunk to the dirt that he was digging up with his foot, and cleared his throat. He gave a weak nod and licked his lips.

"Yeah, he was great, but you know, everything has to end eventually..."  
>There was an awkward pause, before Sam realised that his turn to speak wasn't over.<p>

"Oh, who are you here to see?"

"My mother. She passed away when I was very young..." Kurt murmured, his voice quivering with pent-up emotion.

Another awkward pause cascaded between the two, and they fished for something more to say. Sam couldn't help but see the pain in Kurt's face. Nobody should have to visit the deceased alone, especially on Christmas Eve.

"Where's your dad, or Blaine, or whatever?" Sam stammered.

"Well, dad's very busy in the holiday season. I guess all that snow, and all the driving to-and-from places takes a toll on the cars..."

"And Blaine?"

"Him. We had a fight..." Kurt tried to hide his pain with feeble laughter. "About clothes, of all things..."

"Well I can-" Sam hesitated. "-Come with you- if you want..."

Kurt's quivering lips formed a half-smile, and he gave a few subtle nods, before turning back along the path, and gesturing with two fingers for Sam to follow him. The path was quite long, and the frigid air did nothing to ease the trip, but as with all hardships, it eventually ended. The massive stone monument decorated the cemetery like a beacon of sunlight in a dark cell. The beautiful, granite angel reached for the sky, like a lovelorn poet, reaching for her salvation among the clouds. Kurt smiled his perfect smile at the monument, and dropped to his knees, delicately brushing the dead leaves from the plaque, revealing the fine inscription below them. Sam smiled his crooked smile, trying to read the words, without Kurt noticing.

"She was so beautiful..." Kurt whispered, his voice deeper than normal.

"Tell me about her..."

"She had the most gorgeous hair in the world; it fell in these loose curls, that sat perfectly on her shoulders. And she had the most amazing skin; it was like porcelain-"  
>"I guess you get that from her, then?" Sam said softly.<p>

Kurt tried to laugh, but it was cut off by a few soft sobs. He took a few deep breaths and wiped his face, before coming to his feet again.

"Well I don't want to keep you here all day, I guess we should go..." Kurt exhaled.

"Not at all, take as long as you need!" Sam retorted.

"I just..." Kurt had no words to say.

He wondered what Sam would be like as a boyfriend. He wondered what it would be like to hold his hand, or to have him hold Kurt as they lay in bed. Kurt wondered what it would be like to kiss Sam.

"Let's go..." Kurt smiled weakly.

He felt bad. He felt bad for having these thoughts. Despite their shortcomings, he and Blaine were still a couple. Despite their arguments and spite, they still loved each other, right? Everything came crashing down. Everything that he'd bottled up had broken out, and came flooding into his mind. Kurt broke down and cried out in pain. He wrapped his arms around Sam and convulsed into his brown jacket. Sam embraced Kurt and supported him, holding him, protecting him.

"It's okay..." He whispered.

Sam wondered what it would be like to date Kurt. He never understood the whole gay sex thing, but the idea of a relationship seemed nice; holding Kurt's hand, and holding him while they lay in bed. It seemed nice.

"I'm so, so sorry..." Kurt muttered, between sobs.

"It's fine..." Sam whispered. "You shouldn't have to be alone for this, especially on Christmas Eve..."

"Sam, if I didn't have a boyfriend, I'd want to kiss you..."

"Thanks, Kurt..."


End file.
